


Lost Boys and Golden Girls

by Anonymous



Series: Masterpieces [2]
Category: Glee, klaine - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Minor Character Death, Other, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine thinks that Uncle Matty and Auntie Helena are his favourite people in the whole wide world. Cooper's okay, and mummy and dad are alright and he's only seven so he doesn't know that many people but he thinks they're still his favourite.</p><p>The story of how Blaine Anderson sings and stumbles through a rocky childhood, and grows up under the influence of his Rock 'N Roll uncle.</p><p>A three-part kidfic focussed on how Blaine grew up to become the man he is in the Be My Muse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blaine Anderson - Aged 7

Blaine thinks that Uncle Matty and Auntie Helena are his favourite people in the whole wide world. Cooper's okay, and mummy and dad are alright and he's only seven so he doesn't know  _that_  many people but he thinks they're still his favourite.

 

Uncle Matty and Auntie Helena are visiting them in Ohio before they take him with them back to New York so Coop can go with his mum and dad on some business trip to... Well, Blaine doesn't really know where they're going but he also doesn't really care. Because Uncle Matty and Auntie Helena are his favourite.

 

Blaine loiters in the entryway as Matty and Helena exchange the usual pleasantries with his parents. He's thrumming with excitement, his big eyes gazing up at the grown ups expectantly. He can't stand still, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clenching and unclenching his little hands sporadically.

 

Blaine's mummy and daddy always look annoyed when Auntie and Uncle come to stay but Blaine loves them. Uncle Matty is tall and loud and funny and Auntie Helena is always nice to him, unlike his mummy's sister who always tells him to smarten up and stop being such a baby. Aunt Helena doesn't think he's a baby, she calls him a stud. He's not sure what that's suppose to mean yet but it sounds cool anyway so Blaine let's her.

 

When his mummy and daddy move into the lounge Blaine shuffles forward grinning goofily, bright and giddy at his aunt and uncle.

 

"Hey" he says timidly.

"Hey little B" Matty says cheerfully, his own grin so similar to Blaine's it's almost as if he's his father and not his uncle "shall we sneak down to the den?"

"Yeah!" Blaine squeals enthusiastically, grinning almost painfully wide as Matty tugs him into his leather jacket, the bottom almost reaching below his knees and the sleeves miles too long so he has to roll them up a dozen times.

 

Blaine swivels round on one foot, pops the collar, pouts his lips and winks just like his rock and roller of an uncle taught him too. Matty hoists him up onto his shoulders and mumbles something about being ‘so proud of his little rockstar' and it makes Blaine feel all warm and fuzzy. His daddy never says stuff like that but Blaine decides that it's okay. He'd much rather be Uncle Matty's little rockstar anyway.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

They all sit on the floor in the den, Helena with her dreadlocks and draped in a sea of tie-dye fabrics, braiding Blaine's long curls and Matty combing his hair back for the fiftieth time.

 

"Matty? Why do you keep doing that?" He questions, staring quizzically at the comb in his uncle's hand. "'Cause I gotta look slick little B, for the ladies ya know?" He winks at Helena with another blinding grin and Blaine wrinkles his nose. "Laaaadies" he mutters with an eye roll.

 

"Look at you" Matty tuts, "you're hair's all messy, it's got paint in it little man."

"Oh leave him alone" Helena admonishes, trying to bat Matty away from where he's inching closer, comb held high as Blaine scrambles, giggling trying to get away from him. "He's an artist! Our little bohemian. If he wants to braid his hair he can braid it, he wants it to have paint in it then so be it, he doesn't like girls then good for him."

 

Matty and Helena share a look briefly and Blaine blushes, patting his hair and tugging on the sleeves of the too big leather jacket. Helena just grins and Matty fixes Blaine with a knowing look.

 

"Hey little B?" he whispers conspiratorially "wanna listen to some records?" And just like that Blaine's excited again, throwing himself into a hug with his uncle as they pull out the vinyl.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

Later, after all the singing and dancing, Blaine's tucked up in bed but he can't sleep. He's tugged Flash, his best friend, under the covers with him, stroking his fur and trying to let the puppy's steady breaths and small warm body calm him as he over hears the yelling coming from downstairs.

 

"Honestly, how dare you expose my child to such crudeness!" He hears his mother screech.

"Oh come on Cynthia" That's Matty "It's not crude or anything of the sort. It's just music, and the joy on his face, that smile..."

"You'd think he'd never been exposed to something so wonderful." Helena pipes up "He's seven Cynthia; he deserves to be able to sing and dance and play. He's your son, not some employee or obligation."

 

There's a deafening silence all of a sudden and Blaine cowers under his Transformers sheets, trying not to cry or snuffle too loud in case he wakes Cooper and he comes to tease him about how babyish he is again.

 

"You're right!" His mother screams "He is my son. Not yours! You have no right"

 

The yelling get's louder and louder.

 

"He might as well be!" Helena bellows and Blaine's never heard her sound so bitter and sad "I may not be able to have a child of my own but I can raise one a damn sight better than you could, he's miserable here!"

 

"How da-"

"You treat him like he's stupid. Like he's just some household pest. And when you're not too busy shooing him away you just ignore him." Blaine's mother is for once silent and he prays that this means it'll stop soon.

 

"His shoulders are covered in bruises, did you know that?" Matty starts quietly and it sounds like he's crying "Do you know how long they've been there because there are dozens of them, fresh on old? I would suspect you if I thought you gave a shit about him enough to actually touch him. So do you even have the slightest clue what's going on, do you even care?" Matty's voice is strained and getting quieter and quieter and Blaine feels wretched.

 

He hears a knock on his door and Cooper steps in and walks to his bed without a word, pulling back the covers, climbing in and letting Blaine snuggle into his side.

 

"I'm s-sorry Coop" He sniffles into his shirt and begins to cry just a little harder.

"Shh it's okay little B" his brother comforts him "It's not your fault Squirt okay, grown ups are silly."

 

Cooper is seventeen and it's always been difficult for the two of them. They're both not fond of their parents and even Cooper doesn't understand why everything is the way it is, it's why he can't wait to run away with Suzie after senior year. Blaine loves Coop. He's his idol, along with uncle Matty of course. Blaine trusts Cooper because he understands a lot more than Blaine does because he's big and knows lots of stuff so Blaine feels very small a lot of the time. But it's okay, because when Blaine get's knocked down in the park or get's dirt in what his brother calls his ‘puppy' eyes, Cooper's always there to pick him up, dust him down and patch him up.

 

"I'm sorry I'm no good Coop" Blaine whispers curling his fists in his brother's night shirt.

"I promise I'll try and be better ‘kay? I promise." Cooper's heart clenches and he valiantly tries to hold back tears of his own. His sweet little brother is already so hurt and he's planning on leaving him behind. "There's no need little B" He whispers back, holding him tight and kissing his braided curls "You're perfect."

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

The next day he spends an incredibly long time saying goodbye to Flash. He gives him a firm warning not to eat his comic books again and hopes for the best as he wanders out of the house. Everyone's gathered in the driveway and the way that they're all just watching him makes him feel a little uncomfortable.

 

He hugs Coop tightly, wishing he was going with him to New York instead of following mummy and daddy. His dad gives him a gruff goodbye and tells him to ‘remember who he is' and he thinks that's silly because he's not likely to forget his own name, he's Blaine, he likes art, loves music and his favourite Disney character is Prince Charming. His mother pats his arm and tells him to behave himself and then that's it.

 

His family bundle into the car without him and drive off. The only one who looks back is Cooper and he doesn't look happy.

 

Blaine sighs and turns back to his aunt and uncle, both smiling brightly and he thinks that maybe he feels a little better about not being good enough for his parents because he's good enough for them.

 

**.oOoOo.**

 

By the time they arrive in New York Blaine isn't tired at all in fact far from it. He feels so free at Helena and Matty's that he begins to practically radiate joy. Matty is tired so he goes to take a nap, leaving Blaine and Auntie Helena to themselves.

 

She watches as Blaine pulls out her art materials from the Persian wooden trunk under the windowsill, huffing and puffing as he lifts out heavy boxes of paint with thin arms and fumbling hands. It makes her so proud to find that Blaine, their little B, is so determined to do what he loves and she feels her heart warm in her chest with the realisation that with her and Matty and New York City he has an opportunity to do so.

 

Blaine dances like he's as light as a feather, beams like the sun, sings like all the angels in heaven are his voice. He has never been happier finding the love and warmth of a  _real_  family, allowing him to be a kid for once.


	2. Blaine Anderson - Aged 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violence, bullying and a few homophobic slurs.

Clouds of dust float up into the air as he swings back and forth, toeing glumly at the ground. It's the day of his thirteenth birthday, October 6th and he's at the park for a ‘birthday treat'. He supposes he should be thankful that he's doing anything at all, he hasn't got enough friends for a party and he's pretty sure those he would want to invite wouldn't turn up anyway. So he's at the park, and he supposes he should be grateful because he has never really been here a lot either.

 

Aunty Helena and Uncle Matty are in Ohio for his birthday, they're off doing whatever adults do when kids like Blaine are otherwise indisposed. By ‘indisposed' he means, alone, in the damp chilly autumn air, scuffing his boots in the dirt and trying to retain as much heat as possible until his parents finally figure out he doesn't want to be there and take him home.

 

He mentally berates himself for not wearing his pea coat like his father had insisted, but then it was that insistence that lead to Blaine refusing and simply shrugging on his usual leather jacket, Matty's one, the one Matty had given him on his eighth birthday. Blaine refuses most of what his father tells him nowadays, he's learned that he holds little to no fondness for him, always telling him to smarten up and stop being such a fag. He's only just thirteen and yet he already doesn't care much for his father.

 

He's content like this, on his own in his scuffed up combat boots and his roughed up jacket. It makes him feel big and confident, like maybe he'll gather up the courage to stand up for himself sometime. It makes him feel like uncle Matty, like he's smooth and cool and it doesn't matter if he can never get his curls to sit right or that he likes to sing and draw. Or that he kinda sort of maybe likes boys...

 

Because he knows what it all means now. Knows what it means, when he gets thrown to the ground and spat on week in and week out. He knows what all the words mean, he knows what he  _is_. Helena may call him perfect and Matty may say he's a fighter, but despite it all sometimes he hates himself for it, loathes the fact that he just isn't  _normal_.

 

He keeps going, he holes himself up with Flash and his comic books, he sneaks out his window at night and watches the stars from the roof top, he takes his bike and rides to the music store to spend his allowance on all manner of music, chats idly with the managers Nate and Lizz who always let him have first look at new stock. There are so many things he's not allowed to do but does anyway, and he's adamant that he keeps doing them. Because without them he'd be nothing.

 

It's sitting on that swing, rocking back and forth, back and forth that he remembers all the times he certainly felt like nothing. All the name calling and spit balls. The humiliation and taunting, not to mention the amount of times he's come home with a bloodied lip or a shiner or his knuckles bruised and crushed. He's been face down in the dirt so many times that even at thirteen, he's wondering why he still gets back up.

 

He thinks about it and his blood runs cold when he hears a frightened yelp, one so similar to his own that he almost dismisses it as echoes of his own imagination. He leaves the swings and his eyes roam the park frantically, and it appears practically desolate until he spots them and he's frozen. Tommy and Max, his usual tormentors, are closing in on a boy around about his age down by the tire swing that hangs from the old oak. Without thinking he starts to walk towards them before he freezes again half way between the swings and the oak because he can hear them now, the boy pleading with a voice so musical it breaks his heart.

 

He doesn't dare move. Tommy and Max's voices are loud and harsh and he knows all too well what they must be saying to the boy they've pushed to the floor. He can feel his bruises and gouges burning and throbbing as he takes into consideration what he knows these boys are capable of. The boy on the floor's eyes meet his for a second, terrified and a piercing brilliant blue that makes Blaine's breath catch. The boy shakes his head almost imperceptibly at him, as if he knows what Blaine is contemplating and he's trying to prevent it. But if anything it just solidifies his decision.

 

The boy is the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on. Despite being tossed onto the damp earth, tears staining his cheeks and mud in his dishevelled hair, Blaine doesn't think he's ever seen an angel quite like this boy. Blaine take's a step forward and the boy shakes his head again, much more vehemently this time, but Blaine just takes another step and smiles down at the boy before approaching confidently.

 

Blaine is as scared as the unknown boy looks, and he feels his heart lurch in his chest when he notices just how panicked he looks when the other boys turn to face him. Like he's worried about Blaine. It's funny, Blaine thinks; how a leather jacket and a pretty boy make him want to be brave, make him want to be a fighter.

 

"Hey!" He calls, jutting out his chin and clenching his fists by his sides. He's only meters away now and he daren't spare the boy another glance. He's so small; he knows he doesn't stand a chance. He's small, slim, and fragile but he hasn't broken yet and that gives him confidence. Moments later though he's realising just how dangerous even confidence can be. One of them, Tommy, steps up into his space and glares down at him, his friend Max hovering close behind abandoning the other boy. "What d'you want Anderson?" Max growls out and it takes all Blaine's strength not to cower or run.

 

"Leave him alone" Blaine grits out, proud of himself for not letting his fear show.

"What did you say?" Tommy smirks and Blaine just takes a deep breath.

"I said leave him alone!" Blaine yells.

 

"Don't" The boy chokes out from behind them, still frozen on the ground and Max and Tommy both bark out sinister laughs.

"What's this Blainers? Got yourself a boyfriend? Come to save your princess did you?" Blaine doesn't get a chance to reply, Tommy lands a swift punch to his stomach and he falls to his knees, they start the usual tirade of slurs and spittle and it's only a matter of time before they start landing blows. He glimpses the boy from between his tormentors' legs, mouths at him to run, to run to the monkey bars, climb them and stay there that they won't reach him up there, that they won't follow. The boy is reluctant, seemingly pained by what Blaine is suffering through but he has no choice, it's one or none and he isn't going to let Blaine's sacrifice go to waste.

 

Max dealt the first blow, a punch to the face that left Blaine's nose starting to bleed as he hit the ground hard, spine juddering on impact. They force him onto his stomach, Max twisting his arms behind his back as Tommy pulls harshly at his hair bending his neck and yelling obscenities into his ear. Usually Blaine would keep his eyes tight shut, desperate to use the darkness to block it out, but despite his cries of pain and the dust and gravel falling into his eyes he keeps them wide open, determined to see that the beautiful boy makes it to safety.

 

Blaine doesn't respond, just smiles through blood and dirt and tears when the boy makes it. He doesn't kick out or attempt to escape; he knows a struggle only makes it more worthwhile for them so he stays still, eyes never leaving the small figure of a boy on top of the monkey bars.

 

Eventually his tormentors tire, giving his face one final shove to the dirt and then moving on and exiting the park. He stretches his arms out with a wince and rolls onto his back with a hiss of pain, sitting up slowly to spit out blood. Breath wheezing and head spinning he stumbles to his feet again, cursing his sensitive eyes whilst trying to blink away the dust and grime.

 

It hurts all over and Blaine kinda wants to go home but there's something he wants to do first. He brushes himself off as best he can, plays with his curls a little but soon leaves them; they're a lost cause anyway. He goes to straighten his jacket when he notices. His jacket's been ripped, he bites his lip to stave off tears; his leather jacket's been roughed up a little over the years but never so obviously  _damaged_. He sighs dejectedly before trying to smile. He wants to learn the beautiful boy's name.

 

He hobbles towards the monkey bars nervous and jittery and it doesn't quite register why. He gets to the foot of the frame and the boy hasn't looked up from his precarious position atop the bars yet, his head buried in his knees. Before it even occurs to him what he's doing, Blaine is hauling himself up the monkey bars, panting and grunting with the exertion yet he still thinks idly that maybe he should have tried to fix his hair or straighten his clothes better or actually  _clean_  his face.

 

He hadn't noticed the boy had been watching him so when he's met with a pair of dazzling inquisitive eyes he's almost struck dumb barely managing a quiet "hey" with a bashful smile. The smile, however, is one that the boy does not return. "You shouldn't have done that" he says softly and his eyes fill with tears again and Blaine wishes he wouldn't cry. He really hates it when this boy cries.

 

"You were hurt because of me" and Blaine just stares down at the ground, playing with the tattered arm of his jacket and mumbles something about it being "not your fault" and "it's okay, just some scratches." The boy huffs indignantly and the sound makes Blaine smile slightly and look up.

 

"It's not okay, you got hurt  _saving_  me" The boy says with a frown and pulls out a periwinkle blue handkerchief. He leans in close, dabbing gently at the cuts on Blaine's face and he sucks in a breath and holds it. Blaine knows he must be staring but he is so unable to look down or away that he doesn't let it bother him. He stares and stares, with parted lips and wide hazel eyes and he hurts, he aches, he's tired but he can't stop thinking about how cute this boy looks, with his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his brow furrowed.

 

The boy finally leans away, tilting his head and looking at Blaine's dirtied face contemplatively. The sun is shining in earnest now, the light falls through dappled autumn leaves and onto the boy just right and Blaine eventually breathes out with a whisper of the word "pretty". A blooming blush stains the pretty boy's cheeks as he grins, all teeth and dimples.

 

"What's your name?" Blaine asks, shifting closer and stretching an arm over the boy's shoulders, his and Matty's best crooked smile firmly in place.

"Kurt" the boy replies, blue eyes wide and full of iridescent light "Kurt Hummel."


	3. Blaine Anderson - Aged 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for minor character death and language.

He's lying on the floor in the den, eyes wearily tracking the dust motes that glisten in the pale light filtering through the top window. Flash is sleeping in the corner and oh how Blaine envies that. Sleep is something Blaine hasn't gotten in a long while now and it's draining him, but he'll fight it for as long as he can because god knows what will happen the moment he closes his eyes.

 

He's glad there's a lock on the door because he really doesn't want to talk and a lock would certainly keep his mother away from him if she needed to speak with him. Not that his mum ever spoke to him much anyway, it's more of a precautionary measure, though he does enjoy the security it affords. The den is his, his father's too busy to come down, his brother's moved out and is only visiting for the holidays, and his mother never had any use for it. It's his and he's content to just lie on the floor, Matty's old records and player perched on an out of place looking ornate coffee table.

 

He's locked himself away to wait for Matty and Helena to come and pick him up. He's heading out to New York to spend most of winter break there and Blaine is relieved he can escape Ohio and everything that troubles him, at least for a little while. He's thinking about going to school in New York after graduation and yes he is thinking that far ahead, because he sure as hell doesn't want to think about the present. Blaine's going to ask Matty and Helena if they'll let him stay with them, maybe they could help with tuition just a little, only if he doesn't earn enough from his job down at the record store. He wouldn't ask but he really wants to pursue art, it's his passion, his life and there is no way in hell his parents would actually support him through an art degree or at all really.

 

He dreams of a way out. Living a life in New York, class, friends (because now that he's out he really doesn't have those) and maybe a boyfriend. Someone and he's embarrassed to admit after years of being hollowed out and toughened up, someone who'll sweep him off his feet and make him forget the fallacy that is Jake.

 

And then he's done it. He thinks about  _him_  and it's the only downfall of shutting himself away like this. That there's so much time to just think. He's desperate to escape him, Jake who's a liar, a goddamn fucking liar. He's taken everything from Blaine, and Blaine hates himself for it because he knows he just lets him. Jake is the reason Blaine is battered and bruised, Jake who's charmed his way into Blaine's life only to use him and trap him. Blaine starts to shake and not even the fast paced rock and roll blaring from Matty's record player can soothe him now.

 

Jake has his number of course, no matter how many times he manages to convince his parents he needs to change it. Any relief that it's the holidays and he doesn't have to meet him every Wednesday in the locker rooms after school is washed away by the texts he receives, filthy and sickening, or the threats left on his voice mail. He switches it off when he's at home, but it's on when he leaves and he's hit with a barrage of degradation and abuse.

 

That's why he's thrown it across the room and it's now lying in pieces. He thinks that maybe he'll tell Matty and Helena what's going on. He knows they'll help him, he  _knows_  it. Maybe they'll take him away, pull him out of school and enrol him in some high school in NY. Matty started to teach him how to box shortly after the incident on his thirteenth birthday so he must care and Helena was the one who patched him up afterwards. Matty and Helena are his chance.

 

He's drifting again and it's not helping him forget. Molly, his best friend Molly Baker, says she has her ways of forgetting but he knows exactly what those ‘ways' entail. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. He's numb, working on autopilot just to get through the day. But at least he has hope, without that he wouldn't be functioning at all. He'd be rotting away or even dead.

 

But there's an urgent knock on the door, he's up off the floor so quickly that all the blood rushes to his head and he stands still for a couple of second until the dizziness passes. Flash has woken up apparently, less able in his old age but no less enthusiastic. He bounds/lopes along Blaine's side as he stumbles to unlock, and wrench the door open. Blaine, for the first time in ages genuinely smiles, small and a little crooked, only a shadow of that cheeky grin he shares with Matty but it's still a smile. It's bright and excited until he notices Matty isn't the one on the other side of the door.

 

"Hey Coop", Blaine starts hesitantly "Are Matty and Helena here yet?" Cooper just shakes his head.

"Can you um- maybe come into the living room for a minute?" Blaine is confused as he follows Cooper into the lounge and seats himself next to Flash on the couch. His mum and dad are no where to be seen and that makes him wary. It's rarely only him and Coop.

 

"What's going on?" Blaine asks agitatedly, arms folded tight across his chest. Cooper just sighs and god how Blaine wishes he'd just get it over with, if this is another friendly brotherly chat then he's out of there. But something tells him this isn't. He's never seen Cooper so distressed, breaking out of the mould of perfect and proper first son. His shirt is loose and his hair is a mess and is he... is he crying?

 

"Cooper" Blaine whispers, eyes softening "per favore."

"There's been an accident little B."

"A-an accident? I don't understand."

"The roads are covered in ice and-"

"And what Coop what? Stop fucking around and just tell me!"

 

Cooper takes a deep breath and swallows thickly. He doesn't want to say it, curses his mother and father for making him the one to break it to him, to break  _him_. He knows something is wrong with Blaine, always has, but he just doesn't know what to do. He  _knows_ , knows for a fact that this is the end of the Blaine he's always known.

 

"Blaine... Matty he- Matty's dead B"

"No"

"The car hit black ice-"

"No no no no"

"They lost control, skidded into oncoming traffic and-"

"No NO YOU'RE LYING COOPER, SEI UN BUGIARDO!"

"I am not lying to you Blaine! Matty was killed on impact and Helena's in critical, she is comatose Blaine show some decency!"

 

Blaine feels like he's been slapped, and doused in ice cold water. How dare he, how fucking dare he.

 

"Decency?" he yells, and he's on his feet, towering over his brother when in actuality Cooper towers over him. He's trembling with hatred and anger and fear as everything he has hoped for tumbles down around him. "Fuck decency Cooper! You didn't have the decency to stick around when you know I was getting the shit kicked out of me at school. You didn't have the decency to stick up for me;  _you're baby brother_ , when our own dad threatened to ‘make me straight'."

 

"You have no right to preach to me now. Matty and Helena are-" Blaine broke off, choking on a sob "were everything to me." Cooper takes a step forward, trying desperately to wrap Blaine up in his arms but he's wrenched himself away from his grip. "They're gone."

 

He can't stand another minute in the house, so he runs. Cooper follows him to the door but doesn't go any further, torn between giving Blaine his space, and going after him to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Blaine runs and doesn't look back. No sweater or coat or scarf, it's below freezing and snowing but he doesn't feel the cold, almost doesn't feel anything at all. But almost, only almost, because as he sprints, feet slipping and sliding across the icy side walks, his chest feels like it's been crushed, like something has been ripped right out of his ribcage.

 

He skids to a halt outside the park, there are no kids out today, it's quiet, a storm brewing and the adults have kept their children safe and warm inside. He breathes deep and when he pushes the gate open the tears begin to fall, stinging his cheeks as the freezing air whips at them. Steps heavy, tired and defeated he makes his way to those monkey bars, climbs them with unsteady feet and numb fingers and shivers under the weight of his fallen world.

 

He thinks of the last time he was there, with a boy, pink cheeked with rosy lips and beautiful eyes. It was three years ago, he can't remember his name but he remembers the fierceness that emanated from him, the warmth and care that he bestowed on little roughed up Blaine who came to save him. And god does Blaine want to know him now; maybe he could return the favour.

 

But Blaine doesn't know him, there's no knight in shining armour or Prince Charming waiting for him now. His chance, his only chance and the only people who made him feel like anything at all are gone. He considers visiting Helena but he can't bear seeing her so lifeless. Lifeless is far from what Blaine will ever think of Matty and Helena. But it's true. Matty is dead. Matty is dead. And Helena might as well be too. He refuses to hope for her, because he hoped before and look where it got him.

 

He wraps his arms around himself trying to hold what's left of him together. He doesn't want to think anymore so he makes the decision, the decision to see Molly Baker about her ‘ways' as soon as possible. Nothing is worth it anymore; everything he had wished for is gone. Everything he dreamed of is gone. And so are they.


End file.
